


After the First

by pollybywater



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollybywater/pseuds/pollybywater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What?" You ask.<br/>"We had sex."<br/>"Yes, I know, Chief. I was there."</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the First

## After the First

#### by Polly Bywater

Author's website: <http://www.geocities.com/polly_bywater/index.html>  
The characters are not mine, but the story is.  
Uploaded by Wordwitch, who was impatient.  
A PWP, because I wanted to write a second-time story, lol, and because I wanted to flex my porn writing muscles, and because I wanted to play with person/tenses . and because some days I'm just shallow like that and yeah, there's a touch of schmoop.  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

"Oh, God." 

Barely awake - and when was the last time you feel asleep on a sunny Saturday afternoon? - you grunt "huh?" and slowly pry one eyelid open so you can look beside you. Sandburg's own eyes are wide and disbelieving, his gaze fixed on your face. 

He looks a little pale, actually. Shaken. Maybe even a little scared. 

"What?" You ask. 

"We had sex." 

"Yes, I know, Chief. I was there." 

"Well, yeah, but- I mean, we- you- I- Jim, we had _sex_!" 

"And it was damned good, too," you say reassuringly, petting his bare ass, which just happens to be under your hand. Sandburg's skin is amazingly smooth over the firm underlying muscle and you have to squeeze ... since your hand's there and all. 

"Well, yeah," he agrees, a slight flush crawling up his face. 

It makes his eyes look really, really blue, you think idly, savoring the lingering scents of sweat and come. 

"Why?" He asks next. 

You sigh, as resigned as you are amused. 

"Why today? Or why didn't we do it sooner? Or why aren't we doing it now?" You tease just to see if that blush will deepen, which it does. "I vote for now." 

His breath catches in his throat as his lips part slightly; and if there's anything on this planet as fucking beautiful as Blair Sandburg, you don't know what it could be. 

You squeeze that perfect ass again ... since your hand's still there. 

"You sorry, Chief?" 

"Hell, no!" He says emphatically. 

You're relieved, although given his enthusiastic responses to you earlier you weren't anticipating anything like genuine regret from him. 

But you never can tell with Sandburg which way his mind is going to jump next. 

"Why did it happen today?" 

"Hmm. It was your fault," you announce, deciding he needs a distraction. Your fingers dip into the crease that separates those taut buttocks. He gasps, breath escaping in a tiny moan as muscles flex under your palm. 

"My- my fault?" His voice cracks because your fingertips are brushing over his still-slick anus. You're utterly fascinated by the wrinkled skin around that tiny warm hole and the way it tightens then relaxes, responding to your touch, almost like a kiss. 

"Your fault. You got up this morning and put on those jeans, the ones you claim I shrunk," you tell him softly, remembering how he'd looked with the denim molded to his ass and crotch. 

You suppose you can't blame him for being surprised. You'd surprised yourself. He'd bent over to get something out of the refrigerator for lunch and you - snapped. You simply couldn't take it any more. You could not wait one more minute to have him. 

When he'd straightened, you'd been right there grabbing him. You _had_ to touch, to see and taste and smell and _take_ what you'd wanted for years. You had to give him everything you are in return and find out if he felt the same way ... and he did ... so you'd dragged him up to your bed. 

You pretty much took those jeans off with your teeth. 

"I think that makes it your fault. You _did_ shrink them," he points out, eyes twinkling. 

"I did not ... but I wouldn't be sorry if I had," you admit a bit hoarsely, enchanted when he smiles. 

No, you're not one damned bit sorry and you probably did shrink them, come to think on it, and you're perfectly willing to take the blame if it put him in your bed at last. 

"I'm not sorry either," he manages, eyes gone cloudy with pleasure. 

You know what you're doing to him as his body yields to your penetrating finger. Blair is so hot inside, the satiny walls of his passage tight and clinging, the scent of his arousal reaching you like musky perfume, his heart pounding as he breaks a light sweat. 

This angle's not right so you scoot down and over, kneeling astride one leg. Now you can press into him deeply, the pad of your finger rubbing over his prostate. 

You concentrate on his small firm gland and ignore your own aching erection. 

Thank God for dials. 

He moans uninhibitedly, body undulating in a sinuous wiggle. He's spread out before you like a feast and your mouth is watering. Your gaze is drawn to the elegant lines of his back; those surprisingly wide shoulders, the strong flex of his lats, that sweet little lumbar curve, where the skin is fuzzy with a small patch of hair. 

Your free hand strokes him there, slowly moving down to palm one lush cheek. 

You absolutely worship Blair Sandburg's ass. Watching it has been your guilty pleasure for a long time now, and you wonder how you ever waited to get your hands on it. 

"I want to fuck you again," you say reverently. 

You can hear him smile. 

He looks over his shoulder at you, eyelids heavy, pupils expanding as he pushes his ass into your touch. 

"Good idea," he says, pulling his knees under him and raising that ass high ... careful not to dislodge your busily stretching finger. 

With his ass in the air and his upper body still flat on the bed, hair spread wild over his pillow, he looks- God, you can't describe how he looks. Like an invitation to sin. His hard cock and balls sway heavily at the apex of his parted thighs. 

He wants you so much he's leaking with it, which makes you feel ten feet tall and hard as granite. 

"Fuck me," Blair orders - _orders!_ Being a good soldier, you're behind him slicking your cock before the echo stops bouncing off the walls. 

Touching yourself is a misery as you fight down the feeling, afraid you'll shoot prematurely if you don't. 

"You'll be sore," some remnant of sanity prompts you to protest, although you're already teasing his hole with the sensitive slippery head of your cock. 

"Mmm, yeah, gonna feel you for days. Fuck me raw, Jim." 

"Oh God," it's your turn to groan as you push into him too fast and too hard, barely hearing his hoarse cry. You're too distracted by how incredibly tight he is. 

Silky heat ripples around your cock as he shoves back onto you - welcoming you, wanting you, taking you, sucking you in. 

You're rough with him, grip so unforgiving on his hips you know in the back of your mind that you're leaving bruises. But Blair meets your force with equal strength, up on his hands now, head thrown back and mouth open to pant. 

He's all you can feel. He engages your senses until the fact that you don't have your mouth on him is intolerable. Trusting his strength, you cover him, letting him support your weight. You push the hair off his neck and lick his sweat-damp skin, taste exploding over your tongue. 

He gasps some garbled word that sounds a lot like 'yes' and you're fucking like animals now, the way you can't ever with women, fast and reckless and wild. You're nailing his prostate with sentinel precision and he's coming unglued, writhing into each thrust. 

He loves this and he loves you. You _know_ it deep down in your soul ... and God above, you love him, too. 

It's an epiphany that makes your balls draw up; makes you cry out his name. The pleasure is blinding as you pound into him, both of you grunting with effort. 

His voice is harsh as he starts to beg "yes god fuck please so good harder jim Jim JIM **JIM**!" and you're almost wailing with him. Every sense is out of control and you're bucking into him as his climax hits, his ass clamping down on your cock with relentless pressure. 

It's impossibly good; his arrhythmic internal contractions squeezing your cock and the scent of his semen filling your nose. You lunge into his hot body one last time and break apart with your own orgasm, coming so hard your vision whites out and your ears ring and it's like the end of the world. 

You sprawl over his back and he lowers you both to the bed, his arms trembling as aftershocks rumble through you. You're both sweat-slick, breathing in gulps and pants that sound more than a little obscene. 

"God, Jim," Blair eventually wheezes, reminding you that you're probably starting to feel a little heavy. 

"Yeah." 

It takes a moment for you to remember how to move your arms and legs. When you do, you lift yourself up and pull out of him slowly. To your relief, there's no blood, but his poor little hole is swollen and reddened and yes, looks fucked raw. 

"Mission accomplished, Chief," you say, grabbing his tee shirt - you tore it when you took it off him earlier. You wipe yourself dry and then use it to clean him, glad you can combine sight and touch to carefully soothe his tender spots. 

He's smiling when you lie back down next to him; a big, cheesy satisfied grin that makes you laugh out loud. 

"Perfect," he says, and the look in his eyes tells you that he doesn't mean just the sex, he means _you_. It's all right there, shining out of him, like he thinks you hung the moon. You can't remember a time when somebody looked at you like that and it punches you square in the chest. 

"Why _didn't_ we do this sooner?" You find yourself asking, your hand cupping his face. He turns his head and kisses your palm, lips so warm and soft your skin tingles. 

It occurs to you that you haven't kissed him nearly enough. 

"Because it's a 'from this day forward' thing," he whispers against your inner wrist. 

The words remind you all over again that Blair Sandburg is the bravest fucking man you've ever known and he's absolutely right and you always believed in the back of your mind that this day was coming and it would be forever when it did. Haven't you both already committed to the 'for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health' part of the deal? 

"Yeah, it is," you say, well aware your smile must be high on the goofy side of the scale and not caring, not when he's so damned happy that you agree with him. "Forsaking all others?" 

"Keeping only unto thee, as long as we both may live." 

It's a promise, and Blair keeps his promises. 

"Somehow, Chief, that doesn't seem long enough," you tell him, hand sliding around to the back of his neck and pulling him into those kisses you want, sealing the deal. 

Eternity couldn't be long enough. 

* * *

End 

After the First by Polly Bywater: pollyabywater@yahoo.com  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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